


Digital daisies

by pyakpyaknation



Category: NCT (Band), WayV (Band)
Genre: Cyberpunk, Cyberpunk Janitors, Cyborgs, Drabble, Gen, Read the trigger warnings before reading thank u, Yangyang-centric, Yeah you read that right, janitors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28931907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyakpyaknation/pseuds/pyakpyaknation
Summary: No one pays him enough for his time and assistance. He could argue with Kun at his office about a pay raise.Yangyang holds up a blood-drenched business card with his forefinger and thumb and cringes in disgust."Who uses these anymore?"He's trying his best.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Yangyang-centric - Relationship
Comments: 4
Kudos: 22
Collections: Challenge #4 — Awaken The World





	Digital daisies

**Author's Note:**

> purely unbeta'd
> 
> i came up with this plot after scrapping three initial plots so enjoy this short little snippet! i kind of feel like i didn't do this genre enough justice but i'm still pretty satisfied for the size of this. i hope i did the setting some justice.
> 
> tw // blood, dismemberment, death, dead bodies

He kicks at the ground in indignation and taps his foot impatiently until his partner squints at him from across the room, filing through the various notice screens projected from his robotic arm.

“Donghyuck said they would be done by-” he steals a glance at his holographic watch, “24:45.”

His partner blinks up at him this time after swiping down the digital projections and sighing.

" _H-660-_ ” he begins to correct the latter but sudden scuffling noises interrupt him and they both duck down behind piles of outdated electronic equipment previously used for old gyms.

The noises stop not too far away from where they are and they hear the sound of a few deadweight bodies hit the ground before the sound of six footsteps disappear through iron gates located at 9 o'clock.

The sensor located on his watch vibrates, indicating that the perimeter is clear save for the two of them. They get up and the blond-haired boy stretches exaggeratingly. The other boy simply pulls out two small rectangular discs which expand laterally in his hold.

They work wordlessly on the bodies given to them, which have been dumped in the dark and damp and thick cable infested corner. The blond-haired boy is the one that sighs this time as he bends down to collect their microchips from what’s left of their dismembered bodies. At least it would give the actual morticians an easier time to disintegrate the bodies for recyclable parts. It would be a lie if he said he didn’t prefer bodies with faces on them. He liked giving them his own background stories-theories. Just a scar by the eye or a robotic mouthpiece gave him just enough imagination while doing his job.

It’s not like the agency gave them case files for their assignments. They were never told the specifics of whatever mission was being carried because their duties as collectors and cleaners were separate.

It was just the time, date, and location. Sometimes body count but there were always some surprises not noted.

“Ooh, look at this R-323!” he says with glee, holding up a bloody floppy disc. It was a huge rarity and heritage treasure that could be sold at one of the back alley markets for loads. He haphazardly flicks off most of the blood and peers at the scrawny label on it.

“E12!? This thing is worthless, nevermind. I would’ve thought some high-priced bandits would have something a little more pricey,” he scowls.

R-323 mindlessly hums at first as he sets to straighten out the second body. But, groans when he finally looks up.

“God Yangyang, just quickly clean up their things. We don’t have all day,” he says as he places one rectangular bar at where the head of the body should be and the other bar by his still intact feet. The person is missing a dress shoe. 

“We’re done after this anyway _Renjun,_ ” the boy retorts, flipping the floppy disc front and back one more time just in case.

Renjun ignores him and punches in the coordinates on one of the designated sub-screens on his arm that will transport the body to their regular moratorium.

Yangyang grumbles to himself before reluctantly using one of his devices to scan over his worthless treasure find to register it into the database. He tosses it aside and rummages some more. There're four bodies, a few less than their usual encounter of six, two of which have already been searched with little luck. In a pile to the side: a toothpick, a takeout coupon to one of a million Chinese restaurants, and useless bits and pieces of broken digital chips that are remnants of their IDs.

Time passes by as the sky outside turns from purple sorbet to dark plum. Aside Yangyang’s usual comments on their cadavers, Renjun barely says anything except the usual “that’s nice Yangyang” in his monotone voice. Despite the clear lack of interest, he appreciates the effort. It’s been a long week.

For all the days that they have worked this job, especially together, there’s not really much to make of it. Of course, the first few times were exhilarating as well as nauseating, taking in the scent of blasted flesh. But, their mere roles were just to collect and dispose of the corpses while making sure there wasn’t a trace left behind.

At first, they carried out their tasks diligently. But, soon enough, the garbage hills and mysterious liquid splattered sidewalks made no difference to anyone’s eyes if even a speckle of blood was present or even someone’s missing wallet. 

At the end of the day, Yangyang throws the dead’s things into a teleporter ring that directs the items into a chute in their facility’s item sorter and Renjun uses a digital shaft to sweep the ground to clear off any marks.

Yangyang gets up from where he’s been crouching for the past hour and a half and moans.

“Fuck, finally,” he mutters after dusting his pants off and Renjun lets out a similar disgruntled sound.

“Let’s bounce!” Yangyang exclaims, pocketing his devices as Renjun pulls up the coordinates for their final destination.

He throws their hoop against an empty space on the wall and the inside instantly lights up, flashing a mirage of cotton candy blues and pinks and magenta that Yangyang is never once not mesmerized by. A rush of wind hits them and it doesn’t phase them one bit. But, Yangyang finds himself frowning once he sees the colors tone down to an aurora green and fuchsia.

“I thought you set it to home,” he says, crossing his arms, not yet stepping closer to their tunnel home. He was _so_ ready to crash into bed with a warm midnight snack.

“Yeah, but Hendery just sent over a signal about helping with cleanup. It seems like the fight was a little bigger than expected,” Renjun shrugs and starts making his way towards the hoop.

“Oh, _c’mon._ H-928 and L-125 don’t need us!” Yangyang protests as Renjun stops in front of the portal. He turns to him with listless eyes.

“Boss’s orders, too,” he only says before entering through the portal and Yangyang watches him digitalize. _Damn it._

The space around him is beginning to get cold and he forgets how much he hated coming to the outskirts of the S-30UL terrain. Just empty concrete shells and decaying forests of past cement towers stood here. Windows begone and any semblance of structure crumbling under Mother Nature’s touch. He shivers before shaking his head in disapproval and stepping into their destination hoop.

Cyber-morticians be damned on their job description.

They weren’t even morticians but janitors. _Cyber-janitors._

Yangyang doesn’t hate his job _entirely_. But, maybe the times that do call for his complaints are instances where he should be snuggling in bed with his stuffed animals and reading webtoons. Or joining the largest video game server through VR so he can kick some ass.

Or when they’re left waiting for another assignment.

“Mehh, I’m bored,” he declares loudly into their lounge room to no one in particular.

The facility that their little cleaner-upper-cyber-services rents out isn’t that grand. The place has all the bare minimum spaces needed for their type of work. Offices for the director and employees, a small training area, a lounge area or two, a cafeteria, the material sorter room, and a dormitory for some of the ones who actually have to get their hands dirty in another building connected by a hallway that needs its lights fixed.

It’s one that everyone complains about but no one actually invests into fixing despite how menial of a problem it is. He could call up an electrician to come in and fix it right now. But, because on top of all the stuff that they do, nobody wants to really admit that the flickering lights are a type of reminder that this world is still not that perfect when they turn in for the night. Especially with what they do.

The only other person who was within range to hear Yangyang shrugs and flips through a digital-zine.

“Talk it up with the big boss. But, if he gives you one, count me out.” She continues her peruse, tapping on video that projects itself into a mini screen. He can hear the AI ramble about the latest fashion craze. Visors that transform into customizable gardens or some shit.

“You’re never any fun N-103,” he pouts in response and gets up from the body-morphing gel armchair. It returns to it’s original egg shape.

“You need to learn to chillax. We’ve gotten back-to-back tasks for the past two weeks,” she pouts back, eyes still not removed from the mini screen player.

“Okay princess _Ningning-_ ” and he ducks just as a hologram coaster comes flying at him, nearly grazing his ear.

In the end, he can’t really argue with that. 

Instead, he finds himself outside the training room, waiting for his roommate to exit the lockers.

“Oh hey- how long were you waiting?” the other boy smiles, holding out a hand for an informal handshake, metal mechanical teeth on full display.

Yangyang grins back and takes it in before slinging an arm over his shoulder.

“Not long. What’d you do today? Swing at a couple beat-up androids? Dodge supersonic lasers?” he says. He’s only half-joking. Their agency doesn’t care enough to invest in better training modules and equipment because their primary role is to pick up the pieces of people left behind by other people. Killed off for whatever reason.

“That was only half of it Yang. I tackled a monster-bot fusion human zombie with a sabre and had to travel through two dimensions before repairing the pellet machine for the nth time,” he ends his little story in a deadpan. Yangyang pats his shoulder sympathetically as they drift their way to the little cafeteria.

“Jen, you’re too good for this place,” he comments softly as he removes his arm for the other boy to select his menu for his final meal of the day at one of the two kiosks. The latter only hums.

“Yeah, but I like it here,” he shrugs and walks a couple steps over to one of the dispenser machines where his food tray drops out in orderly fashion.

“There’s got to be another place that has better potato fritters than here. You can’t be staying here for that Jeno,” Yangyang says, scrunching his nose, and following his roommate to an empty table.

Jeno laughs as he unravels the plastic wrap covering, “It’s all about the small things Yang. Anyways, when are you going to come down to the gym for quality time,” he teases, chewing on his food.

“Ah, you know me. I’m not the type to work out much. I think I’m fine,” he replies nonchalantly, leaning back in his chair, observing his friend eat.

His bleach blond hair was a reminder of their pact when they started rooming together. They would both dye their hair blond in different shades, Yangyang’s a bit more dirty, for a month to signal the start of their blooming friendship. However, almost two years have passed and their scalps are still going strong. Bless modern hair-nology.

“Sure, sure,” Jeno says in between bites, “just don’t start whining at ass o’clock about how weak you are after failing to lift a body after our next assignment,” he chuckles, finally looking up at him with his signature smile.

Yangyang scoffs and flexes his bicep, “I know how to lift!”

And with that, Jeno howls with laughter, not caring for his own volume, slapping his knee, “Tell that to the 130 kilo man you got trapped under last time.”

Yangyang almost falls out of his chair as he protests, “I didn’t get trapped all the way! It was just my arm!!”

“Right, and my teeth are calcium,” Jeno snickers.

He flicks a stray crumb in his direction sourly. The little things in life, right?

The work doesn’t get to him. Not like that anyway.

Yangyang is in the midst of scouring through any of the owner’s possessions in their pockets, sleeves, secret compartments, or whatever it may be.

He’s got his tongue stuck out in concentration when he discovers that the robotic leg of a woman shakes with sound.

It’s…routine to pull things apart, people even. It’s their job anyway.

Meanwhile, Sungchan, S-913, is busy transporting the bodies away. Out of mind, out of sight.

They got pretty lucky today because each of the seven bodies have a face and all their body parts.

Yangyang unclasps the leg from its hinge and quickly works to find the mechanism needed to open any contraptions inside the shell. He maneuvers it around before pulling out his mini laser gun. _I guess it’s the hard way then._ It’s not like they’re not trained to deal with robotic apparatuses and the art of unlocking and breaking open different android machinery. He just has this gut feeling that there might be something promising inside.

“04:14. 5 minutes until visitors,” Sungchan calls from his side of the space. They had been called for a cleanup in one of the dingier districts of S-30UL, flanking the red light zone and teetering nano-flat complexes. No amount of neon lights would bring enough to showcase how neglected this area was. But, he wasn’t about to comment on that.

“Only 5?” he says, trying not to lace his words with anxiousness. He has enough time. He quickly works on outlining a 4x4 square into the side of the calf.

They’re almost done so he shouldn’t really worry that much. It’s that the radar system they’ve been equipped with notifies them about any signs of unwanted visitors. Bandits and thieves to be exact, that might be interested in joining their discrete session.

“They’re a block away and they’re headed this way. Group of five,” Sungchan says just as he wraps up moving the last body. “Are you done yet? I’m throwing these in,” he continues, meticulously shoving the small pile of miscellaneous belongings into the designated teleporter. No rush yet.

“Yeah, yeah. Give me one min,” he says with a lower voice, heart beginning to pound against his artificial diaphragm.

They also don’t usually encounter bandits that often because they operate at precise time intervals. In and out in a flash before anyone can suspect anything deviant. Though, the whole world is some sort of deviant so in retrospect, it wouldn’t really matter. Except, they’re also protecting the matters of other organizations with higher agendas and plans. So, it does matter after all.

It matters when Yangyang is stitching a tiny explosive onto the square which hadn't bothered to budge through. _Platinum,_ he calculates. It fits the bill for the fancy business suits adorned on their lifeless souls.

“20 meters Yang. Better just throw it in at this point. It’s probably just a shell,” Sungchan says tersely. He’s only been in the work for half a year but his instincts are never that far off.

“Yeah, give me a sec-“

Sungchan throws open the portal at that. The aqua blue and orchid purples emanating brightly into the small area. When they arrived at the abandoned shack, the first thing he did was throw an exploding scent ball.

And just now, he appreciates it as he takes in quick deep breaths, waiting for the square piece to fall in. He counts down 5 seconds and Sungchan is waiting equidistant to their way home and to Yangyang’s tinkering.

At last, when the piece of platinum manages to clunk inwards, he peers inside with expectant eyes.

His heart nearly pummels through his throat as he delicately reaches inside and pulls out the hidden gem. His gut was right after all.

“Woah-“

Soon, there are loud exchanges that can be heard not so far from their positions. They’re not so friendly sounding either but, it’s the city.

“Just hurry the fuck up!” Sungchan whisper-yells just as Yangyang quickly discards the leg into the disappearing chute and pockets his find. He can scan it afterwards.

Sungchan doesn’t wait any longer and zips into the portal, digitizing in an instant. The yogurt swirl dome ceiling imitation of sunrise skies gives him one last opportunity to glimpse at the thing he found. It glimmers in his palm.

His ears pick up on heavy footfalls and with one last look at the empty scene, he lets himself get swallowed up into the connecting vortex, closing into itself in a blink of an eye.

They manage to get back in one piece, item still weighing in his right side. Sungchan lets out a sigh of relief and gives him the obligatory “you-almost-got-us-killed” look but it fades as soon as Yangyang lets him inspect what he found.

“It’s just a piece of lens that can attach to a 21ce camera,” he states, turning it over before giving it back. “Don’t forget to register it,” he says, with a wave, heading towards the dorms.

His heart has finally calmed down and then an idea hits him. He runs down the corridor, past the weakening lights and up the stairwells to the rooftop.

The cool air welcomes him and he breathes in just enough so he doesn’t suffocate from the pollution around him. He walks over to perch himself on the ledge of the building.

The colorful lights, blinking and unblinking, look back at him. Large ships float and even smaller ones zoom by. Railways skimmer in between shifting high-rises. Life is constantly moving one way or another, on with the next.

He holds up the lens and squints through it curiously and is rather disappointed to see through the other side just like that. What was he really expecting?

He flips it in between his fingers again and a rainbow sliver appears. With more motion, it distorts into different shapes. _Neat._ He holds it up to his eye once again.

The devil was in the details. Or in this case, the daisies.

**Author's Note:**

> (pushing) daises is an idiom for the dead and notice that everyone is a little bit cyborg


End file.
